


Cold is Your Silence

by Deus_Ex



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: Blood Pacts, Deluminator, Dumbledore is an Irresponsible Professor, Hogwarts, Inspired by Music, Late Night Conversations, Late at Night, M/M, Magic, Movie 2: Fantastic Beasts: The Crimes of Grindelwald, Movie 2: Fantastic Beasts: The Crimes of Grindelwald Spoilers, One Shot, Pining, Post-Movie 2: Fantastic Beasts: The Crimes of Grindelwald, Requited Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-05
Updated: 2019-01-05
Packaged: 2019-10-01 02:36:04
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,343
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17235746
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Deus_Ex/pseuds/Deus_Ex
Summary: I'm still wondering why I'm still calling your name, my dear.





	Cold is Your Silence

**Author's Note:**

> Someone honestly needs to take this pairing away from me. Maybe spoilers? In case you've been under a rock this whole time?

It was a curious bit of magic they'd worked; and Albus despised it.

The Deluminator whispered to him from his pocket, always the same thing: his name, murmured in that same dreadful croon that still made his knees weak, even decades later. Sighing, sitting up straight for just a moment before he slouched down and back in his chair, Albus considered as his eyes roamed the room the late hour, the candles burning low, the stack of essays on boggarts he was very nearly finished marking, the ache in his shoulders and back and neck, the throb behind his eyes, and just how very awfully tired he was. He thought back, unwillingly, to a beautiful, brilliant summer day spent lazing beneath the branches of an old willow tree by a lake, fingers absently tracing patterns across his back as he lay sprawled across his dear lover's lap. The nostalgia whispered longings to him: and he could not deny how desperate he was for another's touch. But that other had become an abhorrent monster; he furiously reminded himself of this and shut his mind and heart, resolutely returning to his papers with increased zeal.

It lasted all of another half a parchment before the Deluminator piped up again, unhelpfully calling to him in that voice so familiar. Albus was now regretting ever making the damn things, let alone giving the twin to the person he had gifted it to. Nigh on thirty years, and the man was still pursuing what he himself had destroyed almost that very same amount of time ago. Amazing what two months could do, and thirty years could not heal.

The damage was done, though: crawling beneath Albus's skin, rattling around his skull, the voices in his head were echoing now with the din: _does love ever truly fade, though, if it is true? Would he listen? Did he ever? Would this be another regret? Could he change this somehow? Why on earth would he still be calling for you if he didn't still love you?_ Frustrated, Albus tossed aside his quill, uncaring as to the splatters of ink left across the parchment. Martha likely wouldn't care much, anyway, she'd left several splatters of her own across the otherwise-neat essay.

Rubbing at his eyes, pinched tightly shut, Albus slumped back in his seat again, posture worsening as the feeling of being utterly drained came after him again. Jacket long discarded, sleeves rolled up, tie loosened, and still, he was uncomfortable. A quick glance at the clock told him it was quickly approaching eleven at night, and he would need to get to sleep very soon if he wanted to have any hope of running on time tomorrow. Still, the pile of papers next to him called him, promising an easier tomorrow if he could just finish this particular pile before going to bed-

_Liebling, please._

Something in Albus broke at the little pet name. The one he hadn't heard since he gave that second Deluminator away. And all thought flew from him like birds before a crack of thunder. His hand acted as if on its own; he certainly had no explanation for his actions. Pulling the Deluminator from his pocket, Albus had clicked it before he'd even gotten it to eye level. And then, the slim silver device was skittering across his desk, smearing some of the ink he'd spilled, and all he could do was press his forehead into one hand, propped on an elbow on the desk, and hope to finish marking this single essay before his entire night would be inevitably derailed.

_"Scourgify."_

He nearly groaned aloud; it wasn't he that had spoken, nor was it his magic and wand currently cleaning the ink splotches from the essay. In fact, the parchment was now significantly neater than when it had been turned in. Officially resigning for the evening, Albus leaned back for the final time, pointedly rolling his shoulders even as he glowered up at his visitor.

Gellert stood behind him with uncharacteristic adoration on his face; Albus could have wept for how much he wanted to believe in that expression. Sighing deeply, audibly, exhaustedly, brought Gellert to stand behind him and place his hands on his shoulders, immediately beginning to knead at the coiled muscle. Albus closed his eyes and let the touch be what it was for a moment; he flinched briefly as Gellert instantly found a knot and dug his fingers in to release it, but then breathed out and relaxed embarrassingly-easily into his former lover's hands.

Gellert knew where he carried his tension, and set to work on the corded muscles with a familiarity born of practice. Shamelessly resting his head and shoulders against Gellert's abdomen, Albus tried not to think for a few moments, and simply enjoyed the contact. How long had it been since someone had touched him like this: so intimately, so carefully, so thoughtfully, so selflessly, so familiarly? It was heaven to indulge, even if it would bring hell later. For what it was worth, Gellert seemed perfectly content to just stand there, silent, with his hands on him working gently but firmly against the stress he carried. Albus hated himself for loving the precious, stolen moments so much.

At a certain point, the tension started to creep back in. What if someone walked in. What if Gellert tried something. What did Gellert want. Why had Gellert come. Where was his wand, anyway? Gellert was surely carrying his. But both of his hands were on Albus right now. But Gellert had always been exceptionally gifted with nonverbal and wandless magic. But-

"Shh, Liebling...you're doing it again."

Albus didn't even try to suppress or disguise the bitter snort of wry bemusement that erupted from him at Gellert's remark. Thirty damn years and Gellert still knew his brain better than he did. "Difficult to put these matters aside," he began, eyes finally opening as he turned his head to bring Gellert into view. And if Gellert didn't look every bit as agonizingly beautiful as he did the very first day Albus had ever laid eyes upon him!

"Why are you here?"

He'd meant for it to come out hard and accusing and unyielding, but all it was was a beseeching whisper. _Tell me you came to make things right, that you're sorry, that you'll stop, that you still love me and always did and always will-_

"I wanted to see you."

A whisper as husky as his own, but steelier, firmer, more resolved, and Albus envied that strength and composure. Looking into Gellert's mismatched eyes, he found much of the same in those depths as well. "I'm touched, Geliebter, but why tonight? Why here, why now, why...why?" And he hated how lost and how desperate and how frustrated he sounded, because Gellert didn't _deserve_ the truth, didn't deserve his tears or his sorrows or his regret or his longing-

"The same reason you finally allowed me to come tonight," Gellert replied evenly, somehow catching both of Albus's hands in his. Albus wanted to yank them free, but instead entwined their fingers together. "It simply became too painful to be apart any longer." The words struck him horribly close; Albus had to turn his face away, even as his lips struggled around words he feared he would never be able to speak.

"What would you have from me?" Gellert asked him, leaning to try to catch his eye but failing. "What could I do to be by your side again?"

Here, another bitter mockery of laughter. "Geliebter...you know that time has passed. Even if you gave it all up, they would never let us-"

"Let us?" Gellert disparaged. "Please. Do you think I will suffer any hand but yours? Do you think any but yours could ever hold me? The wolf Fenrir could break any chain except a ribbon. I am yours if you will have me, Liebling."

Albus very nearly broke again. It was everything he wanted to hear, and everything he could never believe. To hear Gellert lie to him so intimately and deeply was too much for Albus to bear. "Get out," he began, the words tiny and futile and meaningless with nothing at all behind them. "You know _damn well_ that that opportunity has long passed-!"

"Liebling!" It sounded scolding, but still imploring, and it drew Albus's eye. Seizing the opportunity, Gellert dropped to one knee before Albus, turning him to face him with their joined hands. "We can have anything-everything-that we ever dreamed of." And the shudder that ripped through Albus was certainly tangible, if not visible; after a brief pause, Gellert continued, "come away with me. I know you want to. I would love nothing more. I have known for some time now that you are my better half. Come with me. We could have everything we ever wanted-"

"Everything _you_ ever wanted." The interruption was still soft, but had gained some backbone; Albus was able to sit up a little straighter as he looked Gellert in the eyes and rebuked him. "Geliebter...it all sounds wonderful...but we both know it's impossible."

For a moment, at least, Gellert seemed stymied. Eyes flickering back and forth, as if searching, his fingers tightened briefly around Albus's as if afraid Albus might yank them away any second. He was silent as he pondered, and, for reasons unknown even to him, Albus allowed it. Perhaps he was still holding out for a hope that would never flower.

And then, with his gaze fixed on the floor, Gellert spoke again, and Albus understood then why people killed for those they loved. "Liebling, I would give...anything...to have you by my side again. Every victory is hollow, every triumph is empty...without you to share it with. Every other lover has left me cold and wanting. All of my dreams...show you beside me again. I would have this world no other way than with you at the center. It has been...immensely difficult to go on without you."

Gellert met his eyes then, and Albus felt something deep within him splinter and break. As much as he wanted to acquiesce, as much as he wanted to throw himself into the words, as much as he wanted to believe Gellert and say yes and throw everything else away and pretend that the last thirty years hadn't happened...he couldn't. And the truth lay just beyond what Gellert had said. It had been terrible for both of them to go on without each other, certainly, because there was no doubt that they were compatible on a level not many could say they had experienced. But there was also no doubt, at least in Albus's mind, that they brought out the worst in each other. They were bad for each other. Arming himself with that certainty, Albus returned the quick squeeze Gellert had offered him and told him,

"Gellert...I love you. I always have, and I always will. But I cannot join you," he said decisively, sadly shaking his head as he watched the words fall upon Gellert like so many punishing blows. "It was difficult for you to go on without me because you did not have me justifying to you the things that you were doing that you knew to be wrong. And...I cannot do that for you. Not now. I could not claim that I loved you if I allowed you to do this-"

"You think I did not love you!" Gellert was on his feet again alarmingly quickly; Albus was looking up at him suddenly, stammering, but words weren't coming as Gellert threw open his long coat and proclaimed, "I loved you more than anything! I swore a vow to you, Liebling, one more binding than any ring or ceremony could ever hope for!" And there was the truth of it, shining on a silver chain draped across Gellert's chest: a tiny crystalline vial with two drops of blood swirling inside of it, dancing even now with the same vigor and joy that they had held the day they were captured into immortality. The sight of it only battered Albus further. "I would not carry this if I did not still hold my oath true," Gellert declared. "This I swear to you, Liebling."

It felt like Gellert had one half of him and he had control of the other half, so complete was the feeling of being torn in half. His lips and eyes burned as he spoke the dreadful words he so loathed: "Geliebter...there is nothing left for you here." Rising, refusing to believe the stricken, horrified look that crossed his blonde lover's face, Albus rested a hand against the pendant Gellert had so carelessly revealed to him. If Gellert was concerned about him taking it, but was desperate enough for Albus's touch to chance it. "We...cannot have what we had hoped for before. I swore I loved you, and I swear, I still do...but sometimes love is not enough."

Gellert wrenched from him with terrible finality; he looked spurned and wounded and agonized. "I fall to my knees and beg you," he whispered, "and still, you would deny me? You would deny _yourself?"_

"I must, Geliebter...for the greater good."

"How _dare_ you!"

Gellert's temper was nothing new to Albus; he expected, even welcomed the flash of rage across Gellert's face. But the kiss Gellert fairly assaulted him with was something entirely unexpected. Shocked, but unable to make himself pull away, Albus sighed softly his defeat and let Gellert take what comfort he could from what would very much likely be their last embrace. When Gellert broke from him, it was with bitter torture thinly veiled by fury. "I'm still wondering why I'm still calling your name," he confessed. "But in my heart, I still hope."

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------

When Albus finally faced Gellert again, years later, the pact shattered and his heart along with it, Gellert taunted him:

"I'm still wondering why I'm still calling your name, my dear."

**Author's Note:**

> Plot twist, it's actually Gellert that's clingy and pining.
> 
> Title and select dialogue from The Cross, by Within Temptation. Highly recommend the song for listening while reading; The Heart of Everything is a good album, but in my opinion, their last good one. I much prefer Nightwish's newest album, Endless Forms Most Beautiful, for my symphonic metal fix. Come chat with me about music and this pairing in the comments!


End file.
